Effy tried to open the door, but the handle just flapped uselessly. She pulled it over and over again, frustration rising to a fever pitch, her face burning. “It’s locked,” Preston said. His voice was tight. It was a petulant sort of stubbornness that kept Effy yanking at the handle, even though the door wouldn’t budge.
Why didn't she just unlock it? This girl is super immature.
